The Walking Dead: Dancing with Arrows
by IAmSeverusSnape
Summary: After watching Rick shot the zombified version of Sophia, Carol couldn't bear it and took her own life. Daryl, having loved Carol, shut himself off to the people he had begun to call family. But there's one girl, Lucy McIntosh, who is determined to reach out to him in hopes to open his heart and show him he can love again. The question to be asked here is: Will he let her?
1. Chapter 1: Concerning Daryl and Lucy

The Walking Dead:  
Dancing with Arrows

By: Elise B-H

**Hey guys! This is my first attempt at writing a fan fiction for this particular ship/fandom. This story is with the awesome Daryl Dixon and my OC (original character) Lucy McIntosh. I know it may seem a little rushed at the end with all the narration at the beginning, but I was tired when I posted this a few days ago and it was rather late. So, I'll try to get a few more things editing and a few details here and there— Nothing big, just a little tweaking. Just be sure to re-read this in a few days. It should be changed by then (And, just in case, if it hasn't changed from the first time you've read this, chances are it has already been updated so don't panic if it hasn't. :3 )**

**Anyhoolze, please enjoy the read!  
Happy Reading and Writing!  
~Sevvy**

**P.S. Please, if I could be so bold to ask, Leave a review! They really do help the muse :) ANDDD if you have any ideas or requests as to what should happen with the two, please feel free to drop a line! I'll be more than happy to take in new ideas— this story is very much yours, as much as it is my own.  
**

**Cheers!**

* * *

Chapter 1: Concerning Daryl and Lucy

In my heart, I always knew that Daryl was a misunderstood man. He has his secrets, as do we all… yet no one ever asked him why he seemed to be vile, cruel and cold hearted. No one ever asked what happened during his upbringing, if he was ever hurt or maltreated, or if he ever needed anyone to talk to— not that he would ever admit to such things. Sure, he _swore_ and said rather hurtful things but I knew that deep down inside him there was a young man who had been neglected and raised under rather harsh circumstances. I knew that there was a part inside of his heart that wanted to trust someone, love someone, but no one else ever agreed with me and no one else ever considered it without thinking I was mad.

Ever since I ever brought up my feelings for Daryl, everyone slowly began to show me the cold shoulder. Even Rick, Lori, and Carl didn't speak to me much any more. It hurt. They were the ones who took me under their protection when the whole apocalypse thing went down. The only person who ever seemed to care was Dale. He was a sweet man and I knew some part of him wanted to accept Daryl and saw the same parts of him that I did... or I thought he did. I couldn't tell if he actually _believes_ Daryl is good or _wants_ to believe Daryl is a good person and that he'll 'believe it when he sees it'.

Everyone knew about my secret except the Daryl himself. Well, then again, maybe he did know and chose to ignore everything… chose to ignore me. He never really paid much attention to me— or much of anything else— anyway.

He turned real quiet ever since Rick shot Sophia and Carol took her life as a result of such. We all knew there was something going on between Daryl and Carol… but ever since she died, he was never quite the same. Well, he wasn't the same nice-like Daryl, anyway. He had turned back to the cold guy he once was and shut everyone out. Daryl chose to be by himself most of the time, even while doing chores or hunting in the woods. It's not that we doubted him—it was common knowledge that he was an excellent marksman—but we were all worried he would take his life if he was left to his own devices. So far he's proven himself otherwise, but there was that odd time where none of us were quite sure what was going on in that head of his.

It had been a few days since we heard from him, which wasn't something uncommon, but I was starting to get worried. Even though game kept showing up at random intervals at the farm house, where Hershel kindly let us to _permanently_ take up residence with his family, we were starting to see less and less of Daryl. There were times where we only saw him once or twice a week. He didn't live with the rest of the group but was camped out at the edge of the property, where an old fireplace stood as a reminder of the old house that once stood there. Maybe he just liked being outdoors, seeing he could protect us better or warn us in advance if a horde of walkers was coming our way; or perhaps he didn't want anything to do with us and started coming less and less so it would be easier to leave if he had to. That way, he wouldn't miss being with people and would be better than fine being on his own

The latter scared me a little.

So, that's why today I decided that I was going to attempt a chat with him. He was just as harsh towards me with his words as he was with everyone else in our group. But in a way, when he spoke directly to me, it didn't seem as hostile as he was with the rest of them. That notion gave me the confidence I would need to start the conversation, knowing that it could go bad no matter what happened. But I think it would be worth the shot.

I sighed and looked down at my hands, which held a wicker basket filled with some clean clothes for Daryl. I went on a run with Glenn the other day to get some new clothes for the group. As we were leaving, my eyes spotted a few pairs of jeans and a few black vests that were similar to those Daryl had. Before I could change my mind, my hands yanked them from the rack and I dashed after Glenn, whacking the few walkers that had managed to get through the barricade. By the time we got back to the farm, the clothes were covered in walker guts and dirt. Lori offered to help me wash and hang them to dry, something I welcome with a smile. It had been some time since the both of us had spent some time together. However, she told me that going through the trouble of getting the clothes for Daryl hadn't been worth my time and that he wouldn't appreciate it. "I beg to differ," I told her with a cool smile before marching towards the house.

A few hours later, I came back out and took the fresh, crisp, dry clothes down from the clothes line, folded them, and placed them into the wicker basket. My feet followed the worn footpath through the trees. The confidence from earlier was slowly starting to seep from my body and I was beginning to feel a little nervous. My mind was racing through a jumble of words, wondering what I should say to Daryl, to be begin with. When the stone chimney came into my line of sight, my heart began to race a little and soon the idea of talking alone with Daryl wasn't so appealing. I was going to turn back and come another time when a firm grasp took my shoulder and spun me around. Blue eyes met brown and I could feel my heart race at the close proximity with Daryl.

I swallowed hard and took a step back when he let go of me. "Oh, it's just you," he said in an uninterested tone. He spat and pushed past me and towards his camp. I followed.

"Who else would it be?" I asked in a quiet voice, which was very unlike me.

"Dunno," Daryl replied nonchalantly. "Someone comin' to nag at me about hunting or something. They always got something to fucking complain about."

"Well, I'm really the only one who comes to see you," I admitted. "Even when you're out hunting. Who else do you think brings you food?—" he continued as if he had never heard me.

He snorted and spat again. "Maybe that asshole Rick, for starters," he growled maliciously. I remained silent as we continued walking through the bush.

"He isn't that bad of a guy, you know." I managed to say after a few moments of silence. "Rick took me in when I had nothing and he's taken care of us all—"

Daryl spun around, his crossbow in one hand and the other jabbing a finger in my direction. Shit, what had I done to piss him off now? "Are you fucking nuts? He had no damn right to shoot Sophia in front of Carol! She's fucking gone because of it. You think that's called being a leader? Think that's being much of a protector? And then look at you—if he's so great of a guy, why has he turned away from you like the rest of the god damn group, huh? Why does he treat you like you're a stranger all of a sudden? Was it something you said? Did he not like it? The fucker only cares about people who are like him and who do him favours. He doesn't give a rat's ass about the likes of us. You hear?"

He looked into my eyes intently and I felt a swirl of negative emotions swell up inside of me. Of course, Daryl was right in a sense… when I mentioned that I felt for Daryl more than just friends, he _did_ turn away from me and soon after, everyone else did. Hershel, his wife and his two daughters and son didn't seem to take any interest in who I fell for and they never shunned me or spoke to me about it. They treated me as equally as they treated everyone else—same as Dale did—and I loved them for it.

"You know I'm right," he said with a reproachful tone this time around. Daryl gave me a once over and continued walking at a slower pace. My feet unconsciously carried me after him.

"I never said you weren't..." I mumbled.

He inclined his head in my direction. "What was that?"

"Nothing, just talking to myself."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

Once we arrived at his little campsite, I put down the basket and took up a seat on a boulder and stared at a tree, lost in thought. It only wasn't until Daryl tried to get my attention a few minutes later that I bothered to look at him. "Hello? You goin' to answer me or not?"

"Hmm?" I said snapping out of my day dream. "What did you ask?"

"Who is that damn basket for?" He asked again, spitting on the ground beside him as he carved a few small branches, most likely grooming them to become arrows.

"Oh," I looked down at the basket of clean clothes I had gotten for him. "I got those for you when I went on a run into town the other night with Glenn. You never bring your clothes to be washed. Spotted them on the rack and figured you might need something a little… fresher to wear."

The expression on his face softened a little, but remained neutral as he gazed at the basket of clothing set beside me. I looked down at my long leather boots I managed to snatch up a few weeks ago from the store. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need any of your damnable clothes. I got everythin' I need right here."

My eyes shot up and met Daryl's. "I spent good time scrubbing the Walker guts off those clothes and now you aren't even going to give them a second glance before refusing them?"

"I said, I don't need your fucking clothes," he leered. "Now shove off! I don't need you or your kindness, Lucy."

I glared at my feet. "Lori _was_ right; I should've listened to her when she said you wouldn't appreciate it."

"Oh, so now you're their pet even if they treat you like shit?" He spat venomously. "Shows me what kind of gal _you_ are."

My eyes met Daryl's again, with a fire blazing in them. "I am _no one's_ pet!" I bellowed. "The clothes I got you, I got for you of my own accord because I thought it would be a nice gesture. You want to know what happened between me and Rick's family and the rest of the group? I told them that I had feelings for someone and they all now thing I'm a fucking whack job because of it! It's not like you can _control_ who you have feelings for, you know?! Honestly, I _ignored_ Lori's advice and thought you might actually _appreciate_ the fact that someone still cares about you. Part of me wanted to prove her wrong. But she was right… She's always right... and maybe I made the wrong decision by putting faith in the person I like. Well, you know what, piss off. Throw the damn clothes out for all I care! It's not like you'll ever wear them anyway."

The side of my foot connected with the basket and sent the clean clothes flying across the dirt. I shoved my hands into my pockets, spun on my heels and took off towards the camp, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. Lori was right about Daryl and I wouldn't soon forget it.

* * *

Daryl:

Man, I screwed up big this time. It had been a few hours since Lucy left and I couldn't bring myself to even _look _at the fucking clothes she got me. A stupid fight over something so insignificant. A little while after she was gone, I picked up the damned clothes and shoved 'em into the basket and left them there. I mentally smacked myself for being such a fucking _cock up_.* The first signs of decency shown to me in _weeks_ and I just harked it back in her face. But that's not what really got to me—it was the whole thing about who she fell for that really caught me off my guard… and that person was me. I could tell it in the way she looked at me with her eyes all fired up with a hurtful rage and the tremor in her voice.

_Way to go Daryl, you fucking idiot_, I scolded myself. _Break her heart and have a go at her all in one sitting. You still got your way with the ladies_.

After a while of staring at the basket full of clothing, I decided that I would at least _try_ a pair of jeans and one of those vests on. If they fit, then I'd go apologize to Lucy. Least I could do for being such an ass hole to her... but God kill me if I go soft.

* * *

Lucy:  
It was my turn to take watch tonight. I was perched on top of the trailer with the sniper rifle in hand, watching for any movement. But that was a bit of a chore seeing as a certain someone refused to leave my mind. It was the way Daryl had acted so damn rudely to me and it genuinely took me off guard. Sure, the conversation started out a little harshly, but it was the best one-on-one talk I've had with him since Carol died. I was sincerely hoping that all would go well and was severely hurt when it didn't.

It was all I could think about for the past couple hours.

I sighed and rolled my neck back and forth, my gaze falling on the stars-filled skies above me. My neck stopped moving and I remained still for a while, watching the wondrous glowing specks of perfection above me.

It was beautiful—peaceful, even.

The clunking of boots up the side of the trailer was what brought me back to the present. I couldn't see who was there and, not wanting to draw attention to myself, I grabbed the branch closest to me and swung into the tree, my gun ready to fire. I looked through the break in the trees and saw Daryl climb up on to the roof… and despite everything, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

"Hey, monkey, I saw you swingin' into the tree," he said as he looked directly into my eyes.

"Fuck off, Daryl," I mumbled.

"Look, can you just come down? I wanna talk to you." His voice wasn't hostile for once but I didn't want another fight.

"Daryl, you made it damn clear earlier that you didn't want the clothes. Please, just bugger off and leave me to do my watch in peace.

"Lucy, come on," he sighed frustratedly. "I _know_ that I was being a dick, but could you please listen to me before I change my mind?"His last comment took me a little off guard. Why? Even I'm not entirely sure. I lowered my gun and took my time climbing down from the tree. I didn't show him any sign of being interested in what he had to say and left my face blank.

"What do you want, Daryl?" I said in a monotone voice. I gave him a once over and it came as a surprise when I saw him wearing the clothes I got him. My eyebrow shot up in question.

"Ok, you were right. I needed some new clothes and you were kind enough to get 'em for me. I'm sorry I was being a dick. It was… nice of you to do this for me."

I let my guard down entirely and threw him a smirk. "You're welcome, Daryl…" I chuckled and looked down at my feet. "Next time someone does something nice for you, grin and bear with it and say thank you."

"I'll—uh—keep that in mind. So, that's what I came here to say and I said it. G'night."

"G'night."

Daryl had climbed down and walked around the front of the trailer before I spoke again. "Hey, Daryl?"

"What?" he spat.

"You look good."

The corner of his lip twitched and he turned away from me again, his crossbow slung across his shoulder. Thank was a "thank you" enough for me.

* * *

*cock up basically means fuck up.


	2. Chapter 2: Anniversary of the Dead

Chapter 2: Anniversary of the Dead

My eyes watched Daryl carefully as he made his way back to the forest. Once he had disappeared through the tree line, I turned my eyes back to the rest of the fields I was charged to watch. No walkers were going to make it anywhere near the livestock or the house, if could help it.

The hours crept by slowly, as did the moon in the sky. The night was crystal clear and the crisp, cool breeze that filled my lungs gave me a sense of cleansing. A new day would dawn soon and it would be a fresh start for all of us. Maybe even Daryl would be a little less temperamental and less anti-social. One could only hope.

"Daryl…" I whispered to myself. My mind wandered to him once again. It did that often enough. I could remember the first time that I laid eyes on Daryl. Rick and Glen had just finished a run into Atlanta and they found me in the gun shop they looted. Glen drove me back in the high jacked Dodge car he found, tied securely into the back of the car, the alarm blaring as we drove down the deserted highway. I had a few wounds that were starting to rot and they just wanted to be sure I hadn't been infected by a Walker. Rick had assured Glen that I didn't have the fever and that I was fine—but Glen had insisted that I be tied up for safety precautions. He was a little skittish, and I couldn't really blame him to be honest.

Once we got back to the camp, they dragged me to a tree, tied me to it, and left me there for what felt like hours. I had had neither food nor water for a few days at that point. My lips were dried and cracked, my hair was knotted and matted with blood, and my skin was pale. I wanted to die at that point and I didn't care if I was going to turn into one of those _things_—I just wanted to leave this world one way or another. That was when I heard rustling in the bushes just in front of me and out of them emerged a young man, his hair a medium length brown, medium build and he was dressed in a ripped shirt, fashioned into a vest, and some old jeans and cowboy boots. He had a crossbow slung across his shoulder. In his hand, he held a small platter of food. The man approached me cautiously, eyeing me carefully for signs of rampancy.

He wasn't a sight for sore eyes but he wasn't all that bad looking, either.

I tried for what I thought was a grin and said, "Hey, I don't bite."

He suppressed a smile and placed the platter of food in front of me slowly. He made his way behind the tree and cut the restraints from my wrists. Blood rushed into my hands as they fell to the ground and a sudden relief washed over me. I eyed the plate of food hungrily and the young man booted it carefully towards me, his eyes were forever watchful. "You ain't bit, are yah?"

I shook my head no. "Then what are your wounds?" he gestured to the gashes across my arms and the one on my forehead. They were infected and I'm sure they looked pretty bad. "Gunna have to put you down if you were bit. Rather not kill another person I don't have to. There aren't much of us left, ya know."

I licked my lips and answered in a hoarse voice, "I was caught in a mad rush of people as they tried to escape the city when a hoard of those… _things_ attacked. Got cut up something bad and I stumbled into the store where… umm… those two guys—"

"Rick and Glenn."

"Yes, where Rick and Glenn found me. They tied me up, threw me in the back of that Dodge," I jabbed a finger in its general direction, "and here I am now; tied up to a tree like some dog."

"Can't be too careful nowadays," he spat. "You think we wanna risk our asses over some stranger like you?"

A scowl formed on my face and wiggled my nose, feeling annoyed. "Hey, hey! I didn't mean anything by it, I swear. I'm just not used to this whole end of the world thing, if you know what I mean."

The guy standing before me loosened up a little and analyzed me. "You ain't weak…" This was an observation. "You got some fight left in you. I like that—one less person to protect."

"Guess you can call me an ass-kicker," I smiled mischievously.

"You still have to prove that you're one of us, first. Eat." And then he was gone.

My ears caught the sound of the trailer door opening under me. Heavy footsteps climbed the ladder and soon an older, balding man with grey hair, wearing a camping hat, climbed on to the roof and came to stand beside me. I smiled at Dale and he returned the simple gesture. We both looked out at the field of grass before us and eyed the trees for any movement. After a few minutes of silence, there was nothing we found out of the ordinary. Dale turned me to and spoke. "Who was here earlier?"

"It was just Daryl."

"Daryl, huh? Was he causing you any trouble?" Dale's wise, brown eyes looked at me with worry.

I chuckled. "Honestly? Not any more than usual. Just wanted to… to talk."

"So he _was_ bugging you! I swear that man knows no decency." Dale's voice was harsh.

"Actually," I drawled, "he came to apologize."

Dale turned to me. His expression was of utter surprise and confusion. I smiled at my feet and chuckled. When my eyes connected with Dale again, he spoke. "Daryl? Apologize? What for?"

I laughed quietly to myself and looked down at my feet again. "He apologized for being Daryl, really. That's the only way I can describe it."

Dale put a hand on my shoulder and turned me to face him. "I swear, if he laid a hand on you—"

"Dale, don't worry. It wasn't anything like that. He _isn't_ Merle. He wouldn't hurt anyone unless you were a Walker or you did something real bad to piss him off. You _know_ that." He gave me that look that said, 'If you don't tell me what happened right now, I swear you won't like what happens next'. I sighed in defeat. "Remember how I went to you after Lori told me that Daryl wouldn't appreciate what I got him from the run Glen and I went on the other day?"

"Yes, what of it?"

"Well, earlier today, after washing everything, I brought him the clothes and basically told me that he didn't want them or my kindness. So, I told him to piss off and left. While I was doing watch tonight, I heard someone climb up the ladder. I knew it wasn't you because the trailer door hadn't opened. So, I flung myself into the tree. Daryl came into view and I tried to keep quiet, not really wanting to deal with his crap, but he had seen me climbing into the tree and said he wanted to talk to me. I refused at first, but then he coaxed me out. That was when he apologized and then he left. He came here wearing the clothes I got him, too." I smiled, mainly to myself as I looked at the general area where Daryl's camp was situated. "Guess he isn't much of a bad guy after all. Going through a hard time, though, since Carol died."

"Well, yes… that's a… um… _bold_ move for Daryl," Dale massaged the back of his neck. "Nothing I've heard him admit before, so that's a change on his part. A sign of improvement…" Dale trailed off for a moment and I looked at him. His gaze was fixed on where mine I had been earlier… but he wasn't actually seeing it, he was seeing something else. I've known Dale long enough to know when he had lost himself in thought. I waited a moment and watched the fields for any movement while Dale thought out whatever was in his head.

"It's odd that something new has formed on the anniversary that signified the end of something in your life," Dale said slowly. "A good kind of odd, of course, but odd nonetheless."

"Death, what do you _mean_ death—" I was cut off by the onslaught of my own memories. It had been nearly a year ago since everything started. Some guy on a road trip through Atlanta stopped at one of those Gas 'N' Go's and got an infected burger. Cross species viral infection rarely happens. So, naturally, no one really believed that the mad cow disease would become a virus and no one believed that it would be able to latch on to a human and cause the cannibalism seen occasionally amongst the livestock on certain farms. But that guy, just an ordinary guy with an ordinary, happy life, became the guy who started it all.

The fever was what took him, just like it did everyone else he infected. They assumed he must've died in the car crash just outside of town. A couple saw the wrecked car, went to see if he was ok, and that was where he took them. Then as others started stopping alongside the road, they were attacked, bitten or scratched and were able to wander off to a place where they eventually died… and then came back. But none of them came back as their former selves.

They were the Walking Dead.

Somehow, the walkers made their way into Atlanta, where I was visiting my family for the weekend. I had just finished my first year of college. On that Monday, I was going to fly out to Paris to visit some friends who I had met at school. They were in Canada, just like I was, as transfer students to experience the Canadian lifestyle. Met a great guy up there, too: Scout Leader, working as an apprentice electrician, loves to camp, loves the outdoors and was very adventurous. He wasn't very affectionate in front of people, simply because he felt it was wrong to sow that kind of display in front of others. But when we were alone, he was the kindest, sweetest, most loving man I had ever known. Everything was perfect. I sighed and looked down at my hands—I'm more than positive he's dead now. I can only dream he's alive in Canada somewhere, surviving in the bush.

Anyway, as I was saying, I was in Atlanta visiting my family when someone began to scream out in the street. We all rushed to the front porch to see what was going on when we saw it: A man had a woman pinned down and was eating her... _alive!_ We quickly pulled the guy off of her, threw him aside and brought her into the house. We called the cops and tried to keep her calm. But then the fever hit. She was burning up like a furnace—I'm not exaggerating _anything_. There was nothing we could do to keep her temperature down. It burned right through her and took the light away from her life.

But it didn't end there, no sir.

The fever may have taken her soul, but the virus gave her new life. An evil seed was planted smack dab in the middle of humanity that day—a plague that will forever haunt the face of the Earth.

Within a few weeks everything had gone to shit. The life I had known was ripped from me. I lost my entire family. The first to be put down were my parents. They were attacked by Walkers as we were walking out the door. My uncle—being the zombie apocalypse nerd—knew what to do and shot them both in the head. Luckily, his years of pouring over the _Zombie Survival Guide_ by Max Brooks really paid off. But, ironically, he was the second to go. He fired a gun to put down my parents and that attracted more Walkers. They took him down before my sister and I could do so much as blink. The two of us left before anything else could happen.

In the dead of night, my sister and I snuck from the house with the supplies we had packed and escaped the worst part of the city. We were really close, my sister and I… until the fever took her, too. And then I was all alone.

I looked up at Dale with teary eyes and every part of me suddenly felt like jelly. My lips parted and let out a weak cry of agony. The hunting rifle slipped from my hands and I collapsed on the floor with sobs. Before I could connect with the hard surface of the roof, Dale caught me and sat me down. He propped himself against a railing we had built together and held me close to him as I cried. Dale grabbed his spare jacket and bunched it into a makeshift pillow to muffle the sound of my sudden outburst.

"Hey, Lucy, it's all right," he cooed gently into my ear. "It's all right. You did all you could for them. Don't blame yourself for what happened, Luce; it wasn't your fault. It's fine, you're alright. You'll be fine. It gets better with time. Just calm down. Yes, that's it. Just breathe. In and out. In and out. In and out."

The sobs had calmed into whimpers and I allowed myself to luxury of some fresh air. But Dale knew everything and he knew he was wrong. Oh, so terribly wrong. He knows what happened to my sister and he _knows_ that I _couldn't do it. _The very thought of living in this world without my sister, without my family, nearly drove me over the edge more than once. I wanted nothing but to join them in a better place and Dale _knew_ that _too_. But, just like Andrea's, he saved my life. He's made every single last miserable moment of this endless, living hell worth my while and I don't think I would ever be able to pay him back for every last thing that he's ever done to keep me alive—to keep all of us alive. Especially on the Anniversary of the Dead, for today marks the day of the beginning of the ending of my life.

Only he knew that, too.

I wiped away the dry tears and the snot and shuddered a few more sobs before composing myself. Dale sat me up in front of him and took my face in his hands. "Every day… every day you're not dead and in the ground is a beautiful one, even if it's living the life we lead in this day and age. This is a blessing even if every moment seems hellish. You got people who care for you, people who always got your back. Don't give that up. You're stronger than you think. You have to be strong to live this life and you've made it a year. That's better than any amount of time I could've ever hoped for. We're the lucky ones. Don't let Walkers, love, or people get you down. Be the leading lady in your life, Lucy. All we can do now is do whatever we can with the time that has been given to us. Be thankful for that."

I smiled shakily and hugged him tightly. "I honestly don't know what I would do without you, Dale. You're my lifeline."

He chuckled and squeezed my shoulders. "Don't thank me. It's my pleasure. Now, go on down into the trailer and get some shut-eye. I'll take watch."

"Whatever you say, old man," I teased.

He smiled and rolled his eyes. "Go on, you scrawny idiot. Get some sleep before I change my mind."

When I finally woke up it was light outside. The soft sound of padding feet and chattering caught my ear and I knew that everyone was up and going about their business. I didn't get up, though. I laid still and listened to everything going on around me until it became nothing but a numbing murmur at the back of my mind. Memories of Walkers, blood, guts, gore, and pure horror haunted my waking eyes. There was nothing I could do to repress them. The memories popped up and dissipated for a brief moment until the next one reared its ugly face. Faces, people, places, things, the dead, screaming, shouting, gnawing, hacking, burning—they were all there, every last insignificant detail. And no matter how _hard_ I try, I can't get away from _any_ of it.

Slowly, I sat up in bed. I looked around me for my bow and quiver and found them strung up in the usual place near the front of the trailer, right next to the driver's seat. Subconsciously, my legs brought me to them and I found my fingers gently ruffling the surface of the eagle feathers on the tips of the arrows. I needed a release. Hershel didn't mind us killing the Walkers any more, not since Shane went all bat out of hell at the barn a month ago. It had been hard on Hershel and his family at first but he slowly forgave us and saw what we saw—dead, rotting bags of flesh that wanted to snack on us. That was the cruel reality of it all.

Without a second thought, I threw on my jeans, laced up my boots, slung my quiver over my shoulder and took my wooden bow in hand. It felt so exhilarating amazing to have its surface pushed against my palm again. Dale took it away from me when he thought I would kill myself. But, today, it wasn't me that I wanted to kill: I wanted to kill the _things_ that killed my sister. There had to be some deep in the woods, there _had_ to be… and that's where I was going to go.

I had it all mapped out in my head. I was going to take the road behind the trailer and into the woods (which would avoid Daryl's camp). From there, I would take a footpath on the right hand side of the road that cut into the woods. My feet would follow it to a stream and then I would follow the stream south. I would be deep in the woods by then and there should be a Walker or two there. If there wasn't, I could always take out a few animals to bring back for dinner. At least then I would have a legitimate alibi.

So that's what I did. I snuck out of the trailer and was weary to close the door quietly behind me. Maybe then Dale would think I was still asleep… that is, if he didn't catch me sneaking out first. That wasn't an option. I kept myself as low to the ground I could without crawling. There was no one directly nearby so I bent over and used the tall grass as cover. I broke out into a jog once I thought I was safely out of eyesight. And then I began to sprint, my surefooted feet carrying me away from the camp and into the cover of the tree line. I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath and then I continued on, hanging a right and jogging down the winding, dipping and rising footpath. Its surface was littered with bumps, rocks and roots. My feet avoided tripping over any of them and I continued on down the path at a steady pace. My footfalls were in time with the beat of my heart. The calm before the storm.

The sound of running water filled my ears and I grinned mischievously. I was close, very close now, to fill that hole in my chest with the sweet feeling of revenge. Those creeps took away the lives of those that I love most and now I will take away whatever souls they have left festering inside of themselves. Soon enough, I emerged from the tree line and the stream was running before me. Here, the trees were a little more spread apart and everything felt open and welcoming. I could feel it now. The adrenaline was starting to seep into my veins.

I was going to enjoy every single, last, sweet moment of this.

There was a narrow path that ran the left flank of the stream. One step at a time, my feet carried quickly down it. Once I heard the sound of rustling nearby I slowed to a walk and drew an arrow in the bow string. And then I heard it, the sound of a Walker making its way up stream. I ducked behind a tree and waited a few moments until it was within sight. My bow arm relaxed as my right arm pulled the arrow backwards and I aimed carefully for the Walker's head. With a silent _whoosh_, the arrow left the string in a hurry to meet its target. _Thuck_. The arrow connected with the head and the creature fell backwards and landed on its back with a low thud.

Adrenaline was pumping through my veins now and all sense or reason was gone. A wicked smile spread across my face and a deep satisfaction began to fill the hole within my chest. Soon, another walker emerged, and another, and then another two. I killed each and every one of them. No arrow was wasted. Once I deemed it safe, my ears still rushing with the sound of blood pumping through my veins, I wadded through the stream and plucked arrows from their cold, dead bodies. I washed them all quickly in the stream, keeping my eyes and ears open for more sound and movement. If there were more of those geeks coming, I wanted to be prepared. I wanted to kill them _all_.

A twig snapped behind me and I spun around to see another Walker. This one was a lot closer than the others—a little _too_ close for my taste. Quickly, I strung an arrow and let it lose in its head. It fell with ease. My hands gripped the arrow's shaft and I yanked it from the corpse. I cleaned that arrow in the stream and took cover. Then there was a sound, splashing from further downstream. I carefully snuck a peek around the tree's large trunk and saw half a dozen walkers making their way in my direction.

They caught my scent.

The adrenaline was replaced by fear. I emerged from the tree line and strung three arrows. I fired them into the skulls of those who were farthest from me. They were put down easily enough. I grabbed my hunting knives and sent the first two flying towards their heads. The third never left my hands. Two large hands grabbed me—one covered my mouth, muffling a scream, and the other twisted my arm behind my back. They pinned me against a tree and turned me around. It was Daryl. He let go of my arm but kept me pinned against the hard surface of the tree. Quickly, he pulled out his crossbow and fired an arrow into the last Walker's head.

Daryl turned to me, his eyes ablaze. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doin' out here, girl?" he spat venomously. "Are you stupid or something? You _tryin'_ to get yourself killed?"

I shook my head no, my hands clawing at his to attempt a chance at my freedom.

"You got any idea how many of them geeks are downstream? You're little slaughter fest just attracted attention," he spun me around and I saw another dozen Walkers walking towards us. "Next time you want to go on some stupid fucking rampage, go downwind. They won't catch your scent."

I nodded my head to show him I understood. "Now, what you doin' out here, killing geeks?"

"None of your damn business, Daryl," I growled.

He gestured violently to the bodies lying dead in the stream. "I ain't never seen nobody, not even Rick or Shane, take out so many Walkers on their own. Why you out here hunting Walkers, ass-kicker?"

"I said it's none of your _damned_ business."

"We ain't leaving until you give me a story."

"Well, you aren't getting one."

"Well, we ain't leaving then, are we?"

"You can't just keep me here, you asshole!"

"I can, I am, and I will."

I sighed angrily and began to struggle some more. "Why do you care about why I killed so many Walkers anyway, huh?"

"None of _your _concern, missy," Daryl replied in a guttural voice. "Now, answer me _my_ question: Why you out here killing Walkers?"

I rolled my eyes in frustration. "Why the hell should I answer _your_ question if you won't answer _mine_?"

Daryl mischievously. "I could be asking you the same thing. We ain't leaving 'til I get a story. You best start talking or we could be here a _long_ time."

I searched my mind for a legitimate answer but I couldn't give him what he wanted to know. Only Dale and I knew what happened that day. I didn't want Daryl knowing _anything_ about that. Well, he did say he wanted a story… but he never said which story. "There haven't been any Walkers wandering into the camp lately. Figured that was fishy. Decided this morning that I should scout ahead to see if there were any wandering in the woods, maybe get some hunting done while I was at it. And then you came along and here we are, talking."

He let go of me and I gasped for air. "I know you ain't telling the truth." His eyes looked me up and down as I tried to regain some of my dignity. "Heard someone wailing last night shortly after I left. No one cries as much as you do. Something's bothering you and I want to know what. No one in their right mind just comes out alone to kill Walkers."

"Maybe you don't know me at all, then." I tried my best to keep my voice steady. _Crap_, _he knows something's up. Just stay cool, Luce. Just stay cool._ "Someone's got to do the dirty work."

"Oh, don't give me no bullshit!" he bellowed as I walked quickly away from him. "You best tell me what's bothering you or you won't like what happens next."

I stopped and spun around, glaring daggers at him. "Since when did you care about my well being, huh? Since when did you give a fucking shit about what I did, where I went, who I went or did it with? I don't need your help; I don't need your false courtesies and kindnesses. I know Dale sent you, Daryl. That's the only reason why you're here—because _Dale_ sent you."

"I wasn't sent here by no one—not even Dale. They still think you're asleep in the damn trailer."

"Bullshit, Daryl."

"That's what I told 'em. Said I checked on you and you were out like a light," his voice was softer now, a little less harsh. And even though I wanted my defenses up, they were slowly coming down, brick by brick.

"Why… why did you do that?" I stammered, looking at Daryl in something akin to awe.

"Well, because I… because Dale isn't the only one who is worried about you. You been real quiet around everyone and you been behaving, well, nothing like you always do: Always happy and willing to help the others. Something's wrong and I want to know what. Just tell me and I swear on Merle's life it won't leave the both of us."

"Why do you care so much about me? You've been nothing but rude and cruel. You don't really care about me." I was beginning to feel my walls crumble around me. I turned away and tried to walk off when Daryl's hand caught my shoulder and spun me around.

"Because I know who you go your eyes on, ass-kicker. I know it's me. I think I kinda knew it all along. I just didn't notice that I felt the same. I didn't know I _could_, not after Carol. Please, just tell me what's going on."

Everything I could've dreamed of was starting to come true. Daryl knew it was me who liked him, he could read me like a book, he wanted to help and he thought he felt the same way towards me. But something at the back of my mind told me not to tell him anything, that he was going to betray me like the rest of the group did. So, instead of pouring my heart out, my walls were built back up, a stone expression crossed my face and I wasn't going to let him in. "You know nothing about me, Daryl Dixon."


End file.
